Picnics & Poetry
by beMMADfabulous
Summary: Elsie and Charles on a picnic together. What more could you want? NEW CHAPTER ADDED.
1. Chapter 1

**Picnics & Poetry**

As Elsie stepped outside onto the lush green grass and deeply breathed in the sweet spring air, she could only think of one word to describe the beauty of the day: _perfection_. The garden flowers had just begun to fully blossom with the recent arrival of a pattern of warmer weather and frequent yet light showers, and the birds in the trees seemed to sing with a renewed joy over the promise of the mild weather. The gentle breeze that blew reminded her of the feel of a crisp, cool bed sheet caressing her warm skin and ruffling her hair.

"Are you ready?" Charles asked, tearing Elsie away from her thoughts as he emerged from inside the house with a basket and a folded blanket.

She gave a smile and a nod and reached to take something from him to lighten the load he carried, but he swiftly withdrew from her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes, but I have everything taken care of here," he said with mock defiance.

"Don't be silly," she retorted, quickly stepping up to him again. "I want to help."

Again he was too quick for her, turning his body away and holding the basket and blanket out of her reach.

"I imagine we could be making greater strides toward our destination if we spent less time arguing and more time walking," he teased, enjoying seeing her cheeks redden in frustration.

He struggled to conceal a chuckle as she mumbled under her breath and gave an indignant sniff before turning away from him.

"I'm not some delicate lady, you know," Charles heard her say as she continued walking ahead of him.

He wasn't so sure about that. He had touched her soft, smooth skin before, if only in a "friendly" manner, and it had certainly been what he could only think to describe as "delicate." Her full, supple lips looked delicate as well, though he had only truly had the pleasure of experiencing the feel of them in his dreams and fantasies...

"I just want to make things special for you," he called to her.

The hesitance in her steps now was not lost on him. He walked faster to match her slowing steps until they were side-by-side once more. He glanced sideways at her, but she would not meet his gaze. Something about those newly colored cheeks, reddened this time for a noticeably different reason than before, caused a stir low in Charles' stomach.

"It's such a lovely day," Elsie said quietly, hoping to give him a reason to stop staring at her.

"It is, indeed," he replied, fighting the urge to move closer to her for fear of making her more uncomfortable.

They walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence. Charles had been delighted as Elsie was the one to move closer, not at all appearing ashamed as she did so. He had battled with the desire to reach out and take her hand within his own, but again he refused to allow his forwardness to destroy the closeness they had worked so hard to create.

When they arrived at the big oak tree he had chosen as their picnic location, Charles quickly busied himself with spreading out the blanket so that Elsie would not have the chance to argue once more that she wanted to help. However, when he turned to her and saw the innocent questioning on her face, her head tilted slightly to the right, he could not have denied her anything.

"You can help with the food," he acquiesced with a small sigh.

The bright smile she gave him in return banished any regret before it even had a chance to creep into his thoughts.

"What is this?" Elsie asked, holding up a tattered leather-bound book she had found in the bottom of the basket after having readied all the food.

"Ah, I almost forgot," he said as he sat down beside her on the blanket. "That is my favorite book of poetry. You like poetry, don't you, Mrs. Hughes?"

Her lips trembled as they curved into a small smile.

"You know I do," she replied in barely above a whisper.

Charles felt a tightness in his chest as Elsie gently bit down on her bottom lip and raised her eyes to meet his.

"Will you... read it to me?" she requested softly as she traced her finger down the wrinkled spine of the book she still held tightly in her arms.

"I'd be honored," he replied just as softly.

She handed him the book and settled herself back against the tree trunk with a couple biscuits to nibble on. He thumbed through the yellowed pages quickly, as if he already had something in mind. When he had found the desired page, he lifted his eyes back to hers as if to question if she were ready, to which she gave a single nod of her head. Charles cleared his throat as he began to read aloud.

_**It was the day the sun's ray had turned pale  
><strong>__**with pity for the suffering of his Maker  
><strong>__**when I was caught, and I put up no fight,  
><strong>__**my lady, for your lovely eyes had bound me.**_

_****__**It seemed no time to be on guard against  
><strong>__**Love's blows; therefore, I went my way  
><strong>__**secure and fearless-so, all my misfortunes  
><strong>__**began in midst of universal woe.**_

_****__**Love found me all disarmed and found the way  
><strong>__**was clear to reach my heart down through the eyes  
><strong>__**which have become the halls and doors of tears.**_

_****__**It seems to me it did him little honor  
><strong>__**to wound me with his arrow in my state  
><strong>__**and to you, armed, not show his bow at all.**_

Charles watched as a contemplative frown deepened on Elsie's face and her chest rose and fell with the intake and release of a deep breath. She caught his eye with such sadness within that he wanted to do anything to make her smile again. He opened his mouth to speak, but she began first.

"Keep going," she requested in a low voice.

Again he turned the pages as if his fingers had an objective.

_**Let me not to the marriage of true minds  
><strong>__**Admit impediments. Love is not love  
><strong>__**Which alters when it alteration finds,  
><strong>__**Or bends with the remover to remove:  
><strong>__**O no! it is an ever-fixed mark  
><strong>__**That looks on tempests and is never shaken;  
><strong>__**It is the star to every wandering bark,  
><strong>__**Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.  
><strong>__**Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  
><strong>__**Within his bending sickle's compass come:  
><strong>__**Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
><strong>__**But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  
><strong>__** If this be error and upon me proved,  
><strong>__** I never writ, nor no man ever loved.**_

This time when Charles looked up from the text, Elsie's face was softened with a smile as she leaned her head back against the tree trunk and allowed his voice to wash over her like the gentle spring breeze. He knew of her fondness for Shakespeare had suspected that this particular sonnet would be one she would very much enjoy hearing.

"One more?" he asked, finding it difficult not to get lost in the beauty of Elsie's relaxed, peaceful figure reclining next to him.

"Please," she whispered in reply.

Charles began reading the sonnet quietly, yet seemed to find strength as he read on. Elsie hung on his every word, allowing her eyes to flutter closed for a moment as she relished the moment and the deep sweetness of his voice.

_**How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.  
><strong>__**I love thee to the depth and breadth and height  
><strong>__**My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight  
><strong>__**For the ends of being and ideal grace.  
><strong>__**I love thee to the level of every day's  
><strong>__**Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.  
><strong>__**I love thee freely, as men strive for right.  
><strong>__**I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.  
><strong>__**I love thee with the passion put to use  
><strong>__**In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.  
><strong>__**I love thee with a love I seemed to lose  
><strong>__**With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,  
><strong>__**Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,  
><strong>__**I shall but love thee better after death.**_

Elsie quietly spoke the last two lines along with Charles. When they had finished, a certain heaviness hung in the air between them. She hoped he would not see her tremble as she found herself, strangely, on the very verge of tears.

"Thank you," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady.

He remained silent as he closed the book and placed it down beside him on the blanket. Elsie's attention rose to the sky as a large flock of birds flew overhead as if they were traveling with the sudden strong gust of wind. She smiled as Charles' hair was tossed in the breeze, and she wanted to reach out and smooth down those flyaway locks.

As they returned to the food and a light, casual conversation, Elsie moved closer to him on the blanket until they were a mere few inches apart. She even dared to trace her fingertip down his arm as he spoke to her. He stopped speaking, and she waited for his reaction as he paused. He stared down at her hand, the goosebumps spreading like a wildfire on his skin, before taking it into his own.

"_**I was caught, and I put up no fight, my lady, for your lovely eyes had bound me**_," Charles quoted softly yet boldly.

"_**Love found me all disarmed and found the way was clear to reach my heart down through the eyes which have become the halls and doors of tears**_," Elsie replied with waxing confidence.

Charles smoothed her cheek with his thumb and then traced across the silky line of her bottom lip. He heard her sharp intake of breath just before he leaned in and tasted the fullness of her mouth. He suddenly became aware of how hard he must have been pressing her against the trunk of the oak tree and immediately softened his force upon her. She responded, however, by pushing back against him to deepen the kiss until it became a war of give and take.

They heard the splashes of water falling around them before they felt them. The cool, gentle raindrops sent a shiver down Charles' spine, but not quite as deliciously as did the sound of Elsie's bubbling laughter ringing in his ears. They scurried together to get the remainder of the food placed back into the basket before it was spoiled by the rain.

"You can cover yourself with the blanket so you won't get wet," Charles offered as he shook off the loose blades of grass from it.

Elsie shook her head, a playful spark still dancing in her eyes.

"It won't hurt me," she teased as he took her hand and helped her to her feet.

Charles couldn't help but be mesmerized by the way the tiny rain droplets caught in her eyelashes like glittering jewels and made gave a dewy sheen to her light skin.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare at me, or are we going to get out of this rain?" Elsie laughed.

Charles seemed to step out of his thoughts at her words and retrieved both the basket and the blanket. He felt a warmth spread through him when she hitched her arm to his as they began to walk.

"Thank you for a wonderful day," Elsie said, reluctantly slipping her arm from his as they came into view of the house once more.

He stopped in his tracks and squeezed her hand tightly before placing a trail of kisses along her jawline. She blushed slightly, and he knew that she was concerned that someone would see.

"May I see you again soon?" he asked with a brightness in his eyes.

"I think that can be arranged," she replied with a laugh. "How about tonight?"

"I shall look forward to it," he said seriously.

They were both drenched from head to toe, but neither cared in the least. Together, it truly was a beautiful day, come rain or come shine.

**The End**

**_The poems in italicized bold are, obviously, not mine. The first is from Petrarch's _Rime in vita e morta di Madonna Laura (_which Charles and Elsie also later quoted to each other_)_, the second is Shakespeare's _Sonnet 116_, and the third is Elizabeth Barrett Browning's _Sonnet 43.**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Here's another chapter, for all you who kindly asked for it.**_

**Chapter 2**

Elsie felt a sense of calm wash over her as she listened to soft _tick _of the clock on the wall. Listening to the rain all evening had made her more tired than usual. She yawned quietly and allowed her eyes to flutter closed as she thought back to the events of the day. She smiled to herself as she remembered the low rumble of Charles' voice as he read the poetry to her and then the feel of his warm, tender mouth pressing fully against her own...

Her memory had ended, all too soon, when a knock sounded at her door. As much as she longed to be alone with her recollections for just a little while, she was not at all disappointed in the interruption, as she recognized it to be _his _knock.

The smile Elsie was greeted with as she opened the door seemed to bring with it a certain warmth in the room.

"I brought some wine," Charles said, holding up the bottle. "And the book you requested."

She could not contain her smile as he presented her with the tattered leather book. While he busied himself with pouring the wine, she sat across from him and traced her fingertip across the faded and worn cover of the book.

"I think you will like this one," he said as he handed her a glass of deep red wine.

He had chosen the wine with her in mind, priding himself not only on being able to choose the best but also in knowing her so very well. He waited as she took a small sip, her mouth cupping the glass... her tongue slowly darting out to remove the excess liquid from her lips...

Elsie delighted in the exquisite taste of the wine. It was smooth and velvety and had a perfect balance of just enough sweetness to delight her tastebuds. She would have to be careful with this one, she noted, because the lightness of it would fool her into drinking more, if she were not careful.

"Wonderful," she commented with a smile.

With that, they slipped into a lazy conversation, pausing only occasionally to refill wine glasses. Elsie felt herself become drowsier with each passing moment, but she refused to let the night end so soon.

"Will you read to me?" she asked quietly, brushing her hand over the cover of Charles' book.

He nodded and smiled softly at her as she handed him the book. She marveled at the way his fingers again flipped so determinedly through the pages until he had found precisely the page he was looking for.

_**Blest be the day, and blest the month and year,  
><strong>__**Season and hour and very moment blest,  
><strong>__**The lovely land and place where first possessed  
><strong>__**By two pure eyes I found me prisoner;  
><strong>__**And blest the first sweet pain, the first most dear,  
><strong>__**Which burnt my heart when Love came in as guest;  
><strong>__**And blest the bow, the shafts which shook my breast,  
><strong>__**And even the wounds which Love delivered there.  
><strong>__**Blest be the words and voices which filled grove  
><strong>__**And glen with echoes of my lady's name;  
><strong>__**The sighs, the tears, the fierce despair of love;  
><strong>__**And blest the sonnet-sources of my fame;  
><strong>__**And blest that thought of thoughts which is her own,  
><strong>__**Of her, her only, of herself alone!**_

Charles looked up from the page and watched as Elsie, taking in his words slowly and carefully, gently chewed on her bottom lip. She raised her head again and met his eyes with intrigue sparkling within her pools of blue.

"May I?" she asked.

"Of course," he replied, handing her the book.

His curiosity was piqued as she carefully thumbed through the text, not quite as easily as he had, yet still graceful, as she was taking extra care with the fragile pages. He knew when she had found the one she was going to share, judging by the softened expression on her face and the way her lips parted slightly as she briefly looked up to make eye contact with him before she began to read aloud.

**_If thou must love me, let it be for nought  
><em>****_Except for love's sake only. Do not say  
><em>****_"I love her for her smile—her look—her way  
><em>****_Of speaking gently,—for a trick of thought  
><em>****_That falls in well with mine, and certes brought  
><em>****_A sense of pleasant ease on such a day"—  
><em>****_For these things in themselves, Belovëd, may  
><em>****_Be changed, or change for thee,—and love, so wrought,  
><em>****_May be unwrought so. Neither love me for  
><em>****_Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,—  
><em>****_A creature might forget to weep, who bore  
><em>****_Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!  
><em>****_But love me for love's sake, that evermore  
><em>****_Thou may'st love on, through love's eternity._**

Her voice had sounded tired yet somehow equally strong as she read, her Scottish brogue particularly heavy with emotion.

"Beautiful..." Charles said, wondering if she had assumed he meant the sonnet rather than her lovely flushed face as she read it.

Elsie yawned as she handed the book back to him.

"I think perhaps I should allow you to get some rest," he suggested with a smile.

"No, please stay," she said, not wanting to see him go. "One more?"

"One more," he agreed.

He seemed to find his page even more quickly this time, as if he had been intentionally saving this one for last.

_**She walks in beauty, like the night  
><strong>__**Of cloudless climes and starry skies;  
><strong>__**And all that's best of dark and bright  
><strong>__**Meet in her aspect and her eyes;  
><strong>__**Thus mellowed to that tender light  
><strong>__**Which heaven to gaudy day denies.**_

_**One shade the more, one ray the less,  
><strong>__**Had half impaired the nameless grace  
><strong>__**Which waves in every raven tress,  
><strong>__**Or softly lightens o'er her face;  
><strong>__**Where thoughts serenely sweet express,  
><strong>__**How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.**_

_**And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,  
><strong>__**So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,  
><strong>__**The smiles that win, the tints that glow,  
><strong>__**But tell of days in goodness spent,  
><strong>__**A mind at peace with all below,  
><strong>__**A heart whose love is innocent!**_

Charles looked up to Elsie's bright smile.

"That's one of my favorites," she said sleepily.

"Mine too," he agreed as he closed the book slowly. "It always makes me think of you..."

"How so?" she asked.

Charles chuckled.

"_**She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies**_..." he quoted. "The perfect description of Elsie Hughes, I think."

She dropped her head slightly as her cheeks flushed red and a smile curved onto her lips. He rose from his chair and stepped before her.

"I want you to keep this."

Her eyes widened as he handed her the book.

"I couldn't possibly," she began, hesitant to take it from him.

"Please," he urged, tracing his thumb over her chin. "I can think of no better use for it."

She allowed him to place the book in her hands, and she held it close to her as if for fear that it might break.

"Then promise me you'll read to me again from it."

"I will if you promise the same," he replied with a grin.

Elsie nodded, still clutching the book to her chest.

"I promise."

"It sounds like a perfect excuse to see you again soon," he teased before leaning down and placing a warm, lingering kiss onto her cheek. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she replied in a whisper.

Elsie stood and sighed peacefully. She smiled softly to herself as she cradled the book in her arms and imagined that the book itself were somehow a part of Charles that she would keep and cherish with her always, a medium of their unspoken words and enduring devotion.

**The End**

_**The first poem used here was Sonnet 61 by Francesco Petrarch, the second was Sonnet 14 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and the third was She Walks in Beauty by Lord Byron.**_


End file.
